Counting Empties
by Dubenko Junkie
Summary: Abby needs Lucien to answer one very important question for her. AbbyDubenko


**Title:** Counting Empties  
**Author:** Dubenko Junkie  
**Fandom:** ER  
**Pairing: **Abby/Dubenko  
**Taboos:** Adultery, sex in a public place  
**Summary:** Abby needs Lucien to answer one very important question for her.  
**Disclaimer:** Characters aren't mine, just the situations I put them in.  
**Spoilers:** Vague spoilers for the first few episodes of season 14.  
**Notes:** Several plot bunnies and a challenge all wrapped up in one fic. Written for the ficathon of **dooooooom** at livejournal. My prompt was "You say you don't want this, but you do."

**Counting Empties**

She'd been sitting there, at the end of the bar, watching him for some time now. Long enough to have accumulated a small collection of empty beer bottles. If she was going to fall off the wagon, Abby wanted to see just how far the drop was going to be. Tonight, so far, it was five beers all lined up like suitors. In fact, she had named each one as they were emptied down her aching throat.

She started with Luka; that was the hardest one to get down. As she drank the cold amber liquid she thought about her husband. The one she had been married to for five days before he took off for his homeland. Six months ago. Sure he called, to talk to Joe. But he never mentioned a return date. Never said anything about coming home to get Joe a passport so the three of them could be together. She'd stopped asking a while ago.

Then came Jake. Sweet Jake. Eager Jake. She had briefly wondered how he was doing in San Francisco. There had only been the one post card from the wide-eyed young man, and that wasn't even addressed to her. She couldn't blame him, not really. She knew she broke his heart with her easy dismissal.

Carter. Carter came with a shot of tequila. No lime. She didn't want to really enjoy this, just remember. They'd been friends first, then so much more and now? Now they were nothing. She snorted as she thought about Carter. He left the country to get away from her too. He even found someone new to love.

That thought brought on the next round of drinks. Richard. He found a lot of other women to love while they were married. Once they were divorced he managed to find just one. And stay with her as far as Abby knew. It took her a while to finish Richard, just like their relationship. There had been something there once. Something good, it just didn't last. How much of it could she really blame him for? All of it, that's how she used to feel but now, if she were being honest, she was at fault too.

And now she was sitting here with number five. Peeling the label off the bottle, playing with the droplets of condensation as they dripped onto the hard wood of the bar. The man occupying her thoughts was actually close enough to speak to if she'd bother. He was engrossed in his stack of papers, his barely touched martini. She doubted if he even realized he was being watched. She was sure he'd be surprised if he knew what she was thinking.

"_Look. Look. If I'm going down, I wanna go down swinging, and I'd like it to be with you."_

"_So you want me to sleep with you?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Well that's something. That's... I'm flattered. I think. Uh…But, uh, I can't do that."_

"_No, no. I understand."_

"_Nothing personal."_

Nothing personal? Who had she been kidding; there was nothing more personal than sex. Back then, back when he had made that frightened request, the thought of being with him like _that _turned her stomach. She didn't think it was revulsion, not exactly. Fear maybe. The fear of liking it. With _him_. She said no. But then again, she always said no whenever a man asked her anything. At least the first few times. She was the queen of no. Of self-denial. She wondered now if she hadn't been waiting for him to ask again. To give her the chance to change her mind about it. That was something else she always did--a one-eighty at the last moment.

She pursed her lips as she sat there, sneaking looks at him now and then. Studying the way he absently played with the errant olive floating around in his drink. He sipped at the clear liquid slowly, his eyes never leaving whatever it was he was so intent on reading. He was an odd man.

Occupying the corner stool he had work scattered around him, his suit jacket draped over the back of his seat, shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow. His head occasionally bobbed to the beat of the slow jazz playing in the background. When he did that, his curls-they were getting long again, would fall against his brow causing him to jerk his head back in irritation. He exuded loneliness but gave off an air of not wanting to be disturbed at the same time. He should have looked out of place, yet he fit right in.

Another long pull on the bottle, another sideways assessment of her unwitting companion. Her muddled, drunken thoughts had her thinking of him that way. She didn't know anyone else here, this wasn't her normal choice of bar. No, it was too nice. Clean. Upscale. That's part of why she chose to come here tonight. That and the fact that it wasn't a place she'd likely run into someone from work. It was just her luck that the chief of surgery would be sitting not more than ten feet away. Her lips curved into a wry smile. Lucky was something she wasn't. But maybe, just maybe, that could change. Just for tonight.

She could probably get lucky. The predictable, lame play on words made her snort with laughter. That should have been enough of an indication that she was drunk. Laughing at her own pathetic jokes. And looking over at Lucien Dubenko made the idea even funnier. This time her private amusement caught his attention and he looked over at her, curious. She sobered in the instant they made eye contact. The look of recognition and mild surprise as he saw her. The slow, half smile that appeared on his face. He was smiling at her. Of course he was. Didn't he always? The man had never really stopped carrying a torch for her, not that she could ever figure that one out.

She watched as he moved down the bar towards her, bringing his drink but abandoning his work as he slid onto the barstool next to hers. Up close, she had a much better look at the man. The dimple on his cheek that made him look younger than he probably was. The curly hair that he obviously took the time to tame with gel or mousse. The faint hint of stubble covering his cheeks and neck. In the dim light of the bar Abby had the startling realization that Lucien Dubenko might not be classically handsome but he was good looking. Better than good, maybe.

She cleared her throat, getting him to look directly at her once more. "So, you come here often?" She asked the question, tongue in cheek, trying to be funny.

He answered her in all sincerity. "Yeah, I like the Mandarin."

Oh for fuck's sake, she resisted the urge to groan. Why'd he even come over here if he was just going to be awkward? She had to remind herself that socially inept was Lucien's norm. She gave him a tight smile and took another drink of her beer. "Why?"

He was looking at his own drink now, his features hard to read but she had the feeling he was mildly uncomfortable himself. "Good booze. I like the music. Normally don't see anyone from County here. Why are you here, Abby?"

She wasn't sure if she liked being asked questions, not when she knew he wanted real answers and not the superficial garbage most people told each other. "I'm getting drunk."

There, be blunt. Shock him. See what he would say to that.

"I ah, I can see that." He nodded at her collection of bottles. "Hope you aren't working tomorrow morning."

She wanted to laugh at him. She was an old pro at this, hangovers didn't knock her on her ass. Certainly not a few beers anyway. Of course, he didn't know that. Didn't know that she shouldn't be here getting wasted. She shrugged instead, not answering him one way or the other.

They sat next to each other in an almost comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts for a while. It wasn't until she realized he was watching her, studying her with those bright hazel eyes of his that she spoke again. "So…" She bit her cheek to keep from smiling, feeling perversely amused with herself. "Does it still work?"

His brows furrowed then arched above his glasses, baffled with her question. "Beg your pardon?"

"_No, I understand. I was asking purely from a scientific approach. What about after?"_

"_After what?"_

"_The surgery. To see if anything still works."_

"_I'm gonna have to take a pass on that, too."_

She did allow herself to smile then. Inhibitions skewed thanks to her walk down memory lane, she leaned in close enough to smell his aftershave. She saw him stiffen as her breath brushed over his skin. "Does it…still…work?" She made her meaning clear this time by placing her hand on his thigh.

He shuddered, whether from her question or her touch, Abby couldn't tell. She was making him nervous, she knew that much. He nodded his head slowly, his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. Don't tease me, he seemed to be saying as he sat there.

She squeezed his leg. He stifled a yelp and stood up, back against the bar as he faced her. Looking down at her now that he has the advantage of height and not being so crowded by her closeness. "Abby…"

"Lucien…"

"No."

It was her turn to be confused now. "No? It doesn't work? Wow…and I thought I had a rotten sex life lately."

He blushed at that, just the faintest hint of color on his cheeks, the back of his neck. "That's not what I meant." She watch as he had some sort of internal argument, guessing that his male ego wouldn't let this go. "I'm…fine. If you must know, I am quite capable of achieving and maintaining an erection. Several times a day, even..."

Before he could launch into a clinical description of when, where and how often, she shook her head, placed her fingertips against his lips to silence him. "Show me."

The look on his face gave her momentary pause. Bewildered. That's what Lucien Dubenko was. Positively bewildered. She had thought this would make his night, sure it was two years late but what kind of guy turned down the offer when there were no strings attached?

He must have reached a decision of his own because without warning, he picked up his glass and drained it. Then her beer. Liquid courage--that made her smile as she took his hand in hers. The urgent need she felt to do this, to find out if she'd made the wrong choice all those months ago, had her leading him towards the back of the bar.

He tried to protest again as she pulled him into the women's bathroom. She shut him down with a kiss, hard on the lips.

After that, things were a blur for some time. Hands flew everywhere, hungry to possess bare skin. Mouths just as eager to taste. Clothing was pulled, ripped, discarded as it was shoved out of place to reveal the bodies underneath. There were cries of surprise, gasps of pleasure and pain as they made use of a too small stall. The first time happened too fast to think about it more than abstract terms. Sensations.

Her mind reeled and she didn't know if it was from the alcohol or the way he was touching her, _there_. Like _that_. My God, his hands…she whimpered against his neck, her fists clenching his unbuttoned shirt as it hung off his shoulders. Shoulders she had been surprised to find so broad and well shaped.

As she forced herself to focus, her mind cleared and she looked up at his face. His eyes were closed, and yet there was a look of deep concentration there. He was concentrating on her, intent on giving her what she'd asked for. How she knew this, Abby couldn't say other than the fact that she could feel it.

She felt it in the hot breath against her face as he breathed so heavy; screwing was hard work. It was there in the way her panties were fisted in his hand, the one he was using to brace himself against the cold metal stall. His well-muscled arms that supported her weight as he lifted her off the floor. In the arch of his back as he moved against her.

She could feel the intensity moving under her hands as she pressed them against the muscles in his back. The way his chest slid against hers, coarse hair brushing against her painfully hard nipples. His mouth. Oh his mouth. Hot and tasting of alcohol with every kiss. Tasting of her now too. Even as he thrust himself into her, made her cry out and wrap her legs tighter around his waist, she was thinking about what he had done just a short time before.

_Kneeling in their discarded clothing, looking up at her as she leaned back against the wall. She'd taken his glasses off, let them slip from her fingers as she watched him lick his lips. The sound of them hitting the hard tile floor made her gasp and he laughed, a deep chuckle that she found sexy coming from him. Then his mouth was on her and she couldn't think about anything. Her fingers in his hair as she trembled, tried to keep her legs from going weak on her. She nearly collapsed the first time she felt his tongue enter her…felt him groan against her wetness. But he'd caught her, lifted her leg to rest it over his shoulder. Taking care of her._

She had been so lost in thought, murmuring nonsense as she leaned her head back, eyes closed tight, that she didn't realize he was speaking to her. She was startled to open her eyes only to be looking right into his. They were still pressed together, he was still holding her off the floor, but only her heart was still racing. He was saying something but the words weren't making any sense to her as she watched his lips move.

He was letting her down, the cold of the floor bringing her back to her senses somewhat as she stood there watching him put his clothing to rights. It hadn't occurred to her to do the same until Lucien nuzzled her face and began to pull her blouse closed again. His nimble fingers making short work of the buttons he fastened. He went so far as to kneel down again, this time gently sliding her pants back up her legs, even putting her shoes back on for her. When he stood up, he brushed his mouth over hers, softly as if he was all ready aware of how bruised her lips were.

She shuddered as he lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles and then slowly uncurled each one of her fingers from the tight fist she'd formed. She felt the soft, cool fabric against her palm before she realized what it was. He closed his hand over hers, the flimsy material of her discarded panties trapped between them as he murmured against her ear, "It still works, Abby."

She nodded, thinking his words were unnecessary. The aching between her legs was all the proof she needed. As he opened the door to the stall she realized that he was going to leave. "Lucien…" She winced, hating the desperation she could hear in her voice. It wasn't like her at all.

He must have noticed too because he turned to look at her. "I wouldn't have left you."

She bit her lip and looked down, away from him. Maybe that's why she'd told him no when he had been the one to ask. She'd known that he wasn't the type to do anything in half measures. If she'd said yes back then they wouldn't have needed to be here now.

"Abby?"

She looked up at him again, ready to ask him not to leave. The look on his face stopped her. He looked…sad, almost. This, like everything else he'd ever done with regards to her, had cost him. She waited, knowing he had something he wanted to say.

"You were right. I didn't need you after all." He paused, making her wonder about what was coming. "I wanted you though." And then he was gone.

She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. He remembered their conversations every bit as much as she did. He'd known what she wanted, needed, but unlike her he had been willing to give it. She wiped a hand under her eye, brushing away the few tears that were threatening to become more and in doing so caught a glimpse of the wedding band on her left hand. She'd chosen what she thought was the safe man. The familiar one. The one she shared a history with. The one who had left her alone.

As she made her way back to the bar Abby realized Lucien was no longer there. The empty bottles on the other hand, were still lined up neatly where she'd left them. She put on her coat, gathered her bag and keys then on impulse, took the last bottle off the bar. Lucien. She wanted this odd keepsake. A reminder of what she could have chosen for herself. The man she said she didn't want even when she did.


End file.
